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Level Up (2)

  "We need to move soon," I said, pushing myself to my feet. The fatigue from using my ability still lingered, but it had dulled from crippling to manageable. "Find supplies, weapons, maybe other survivors who received classes."

  Aurora stood as well, rolling her shoulders as if testing her own recovery. "We should head toward Queens first. My grandmother's place. It's closest. And she build her house like a fortress."

  "Agreed. And it's away from the densest parts of the city." I checked the emergency alert again, scanning for any new information, any clue about what was happening beyond our basement refuge.

  "Let me try one more time," Aurora said, dialing her sister's number again. Her face fell as the same automated message played. "Nothing."

  I reached out, squeezing her shoulder. "We'll find them."

  She covered my hand with hers for just a moment, the brief contact conveying more than words could. Then she pulled away, all business again.

  "Let's check what we have. Empty our bags, pool resources."

  We dumped the contents of our backpacks onto the floor—textbooks, notebooks, pens, a half-eaten protein bar, Aurora's water bottle, my battery pack, some loose change. The meager supplies of students whose biggest concern that morning had been an astrophysics lecture.

  "Not exactly apocalypse ready," I muttered.

  Aurora managed a tight smile. "We'll make it work. We always do."

  Above us, muffled sounds filtered through the ceiling—crashes, distant screams, what might have been gunfire. The emergency alerts on our phones continued to pulse rhythmically, bathing the basement in intermittent red light.

  Outside our basement sanctuary, New York City—and perhaps the entire world—burned.

  "For what I've calculated, the class system is more significant than we initially thought," I said, leaning against the cold basement wall. My mind was racing with numbers and patterns, the newfound clarity from my increased Intelligence stat helping me see connections that might have eluded me before.

  Aurora looked up from her phone—still displaying no signal—her eyes sharp with interest. "What do you mean?"

  I gestured to her stat screen, still faintly visible in the air before her. "Across your four stats at level 1, you had a total of seventy points, putting you significantly above average human capability."

  "And?" She raised an eyebrow, always pushing for the conclusion.

  "My five stats totaled seventy-five. If we extrapolate backwards, assuming the star rating correlates with initial stat distribution..." I traced invisible calculations in the air, the phantom memory of my quill making the motion feel almost natural. "Someone with a one-star class probably starts with only fifty-five total points."

  Aurora's eyes widened slightly as the implications set in. "So the System predetermined who would be strongest from the beginning."

  "Exactly," I nodded. "Our classes weren't random. We were... selected, somehow."

  "And we get five points for each level-up." She clenched and unclenched her fist, as if feeling the power coursing through it. "Each level making the gap even wider between the strong and the weak."

  "Yeah." I pursed my lips, a chill running through me despite the basement's stuffiness. "We have skills too—abilities that seem to unlock as we progress. I'm guessing at certain thresholds—maybe level 10?—we'll gain access to more advanced abilities."

  "Makes sense," Aurora murmured, swiping through her own skill information. "Right now, I only have Lunar Blade. It says gives me an eastern style sword I can summon and unsummon."

  "And I have Gravity Anomaly—just the one skill so far," I replied, remembering the sickening crunch as reality bent to my will. "I can only manipulate gravity at the moment, but who knows what else might open up."

  "Quests," Aurora said suddenly, tapping her screen. "Look—there's a tab for quests. Just like an actual game."

  I opened mine and saw it too—a glowing icon labeled "Quests" that pulsed softly, as if waiting to be acknowledged. "We're going to need everything we can get—experience, levels, items. We should prioritize leveling up as much as possible."

  "Even if it means killing more of those things," Aurora said grimly, no hesitation in her voice. The silver-eyed creature that had once been our classmate wasn't even a consideration anymore. It was survival now.

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  "Even then," I agreed. "We need strength. Power. Whatever the System is willing to give us."

  Aurora nodded, then glanced toward the ceiling. "I've been thinking about the military. Why haven't we heard jets overhead? Tanks in the streets?"

  The question hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken fears.

  "They're fighting," I said slowly, piecing together a theory. "But I'm guessing the System didn't just create ordinary zombies. There must be... variants. More powerful ones specifically designed to counter conventional military tactics."

  Aurora's expression darkened. "Makes sense. You and I can handle the standard ones we've seen, but we have literal supernatural abilities now. Regular soldiers with guns..."

  "Would be outmatched by something faster, stronger, and potentially armored," I finished. "The System is too... elegant... to leave such an obvious vulnerability."

  "Like a game designer balancing difficulty," Aurora said, a bitter edge to her laugh. "Can't make it too easy for the players."

  I ran a hand through my hair, feeling grit and dust. "We should get moving toward your grandmother's place. If it really is the fortress you described—"

  "Oh, it is," Aurora sighed, a hint of fondness breaking through the tension. "Grandma Sofia has been convinced society would collapse for the last fifteen years. Stockpiled food, water, medical supplies, even weapons. She has a full security system, reinforced doors and windows..."

  "And everyone thought she was crazy," I said softly.

  "Instead, she was right." Aurora stood, brushing dust from her jeans. "The world really did fall apart. Just not in the way anyone expected."

  I pulled myself up, checking my phone one last time. Still no signal. "We should level up as much as possible on our way there. Clear a path, gain experience. Every zombie we take down makes us stronger."

  Before we moved toward the door, Aurora paused. "Wait. If this is really like a game system, shouldn't we be able to form a party? That might help us coordinate better."

  I hadn't thought of that. "Worth trying. System... form party?"

  Nothing happened.

  Aurora frowned. "Maybe it needs more specific commands. System, create party with Nathaniel Moretti."

  A translucent blue notification appeared between us:

  Party Formation Request Aurora Reyes (Lunar Knight ★★★★) wishes to form a party with you. Accept? [Yes] [No]

  "It worked," I said, surprised at how intuitive the System's interface was. I tapped the floating [Yes] option.

  Immediately, new information appeared in my peripheral vision—a small indicator showing Aurora's name, class, and health status. Based on her expression, she could see my information as well.

  "Neat trick," she said. "Now we can track each other's status without having to ask."

  "Plus," I added, "I'm guessing we'll share experience points now. Maybe even get party bonuses."

  As if confirming my suspicion, a new notification appeared:

  Party "Unnamed" formed

  Members: 2/8

  Party Effect: Shared Experience (80%)

  Party Skills: None

  "Looks like we'll get most of the experience from each other's kills," I said, studying the notification. "And there's room for more members if we find other survivors with classes."

  "Efficiently morbid," Aurora muttered, but there was a practical appreciation in her tone. "We should name it, at least."

  "Any ideas?"

  She thought for a moment. "Moonfall Survivors."

  I nodded. "System, name party 'Moonfall Survivors'."

  The notification updated:

  Party "Moonfall Survivors" named Members: 2/8 Party Effect: Shared Experience (80%) Party Skills: None

  With that taken care of, Aurora's sword materialized in her hand without a conscious thought, as if the weapon itself was eager for what came next. The silver blade hummed softly in the dim light. "Let's go."

  We approached the stairwell cautiously, each step measured and deliberate. The sounds from above had changed—less chaotic screaming, more of the unsettling groans and shuffling that seemed to be the zombies' natural state when not actively hunting.

  "I'll take point," Aurora whispered, her blade at the ready. "You stay behind me. Use your ability if we get overwhelmed, but conserve your energy if possible."

  I nodded, summoning the faint outline of my quill. It wasn't fully materialized—just a shimmer of potential ready to be called forth when needed. With my increased Cosmic Insight, I found I could maintain this partial manifestation with minimal strain.

  The first floor was a war zone. Overturned desks, shattered glass, smears of dark blood across walls and floors. Bodies—both transformed and not—lay scattered throughout the hallway. The stench hit me like a physical wall, and I fought back the urge to gag.

  As we moved deeper into the building, a pattern emerged among the carnage—one I hadn't expected.

  "Aurora, look," I whispered, pointing to a body slumped against the wall. It was Professor Chen from the Mathematics department, his throat torn open, shirt soaked crimson. But his eyes were normal—human, not the silver glow of the transformed.

  What caught my attention, though, was his arm. An obvious bite mark had torn through his sleeve, exposing mangled flesh beneath. Yet he hadn't transformed.

  "He had a class," Aurora said, noticing the faint shimmer of a system screen still hovering near his body. "Two-star Calculation Sage, looks like."

  "But he was bitten," I pointed out. "He didn't turn."

  Aurora's eyebrows shot up as the implication sank in. "You think—"

  "Having a class might provide immunity," I finished. "At least to the transformation aspect."

  We continued forward, now actively looking for evidence to support this theory. We didn't have to search long. Near the main office, we found three more bodies—all with system screens still faintly visible, all with obvious bite wounds, yet none had transformed. They had died from their injuries, but they hadn't become zombies.

  "It makes a sick kind of sense," Aurora said as we paused to examine the bodies. "The System selects who becomes what. Those without classes become zombies immediately. Those with classes are immune to that transformation—they can only die the old-fashioned way."

  "The System is preserving its chosen," I agreed. "Giving us an advantage beyond just stats and abilities."

  As if to test our theory, we turned a corner and found a student—I vaguely recognized him from the engineering program—fighting desperately against a zombie. His right arm hung limply, blood flowing from a vicious bite wound, but his eyes were clear, human. A system screen flickered beside him, indicating some kind of class.

  Aurora moved instantly, her blade flashing through the air and separating the zombie's head from its shoulders in one clean stroke. The creature collapsed, silver blood pooling beneath it.

  The student staggered back, clutching his wounded arm, eyes wide with terror and pain. "Am I—am I going to turn?" he gasped.

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